


Knight of Ghosts and Shadows

by BlossomsintheMist



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Gen, lyrium idol, templar Carver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-30
Updated: 2012-03-30
Packaged: 2017-11-02 18:10:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/371871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlossomsintheMist/pseuds/BlossomsintheMist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meredith's lyrium idol sword begins to have an effect on the rest of the Gallows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knight of Ghosts and Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the brief discussion of Meredith’s lyrium idol sword [here](http://givethemhorns.tumblr.com/post/20124514404/the-sword-wasnt-carved-out-of-the-idol-like-a). I couldn’t get the image of the Gallows haunted by the idol out of my head, so I wrote this up, quickly.

At first Carver thought it was his imagination.  It had to be.  Ghost stories were for kids and Fereldan rubes, and while he sometimes felt like both of those things, he wasn’t either anymore, damnit, and he knew better.  Things didn’t move of their own accord without the application of force magic.  There were no voices whispering in the chapel.  Doors didn’t swing shut behind him with no one to shut them.  He didn’t want to report any of the apprentices just for playing a few practical jokes, but that had to be all it was.

That was what he told himself at first.  For a while, it even worked.  He even believed it.  Even when it made him jump, made shivers run down his spine, he told himself it was just his imagination.  He could just imagine Marian’s laughter at his jumping at shadows and how it would have made his face burn like a stupid kid all over again, awkward and sputtering.

The thought made guilt knot up hard and thick behind his breastbone, because he hadn’t seen her in over a year now, not more than a glimpse in the Hightown square.

But that was before the rumors that the Knight Commander locked herself in her office for hours, that she’d been heard muttering to herself.  That was before he was tasked to deliver her a message and, heart a nervous thumping lump in his throat, knocked clumsily on her door to no answer, and pushed it open, expecting to find her out and be able to leave the missive on her desk—

Only to find that she was standing at her desk, running her fingers along the gleaming red sword that lay across it.  Something in the blankness of her stare, the careful evenness of her gauntleted fingers against the dull red of the blade, made his stomach turn over.  She ran her fingers perfectly evenly along the blood groove and back down again, without wavering, without blinking.

“K-Knight Commander,” he managed to stammer out.  “I—I, um, message.  For you.”  He knew he sounded like an idiot, but in that moment he couldn’t find it in himself to care.  The back of his neck was crawling, his palm itching for the hilt of his sword—but he couldn’t very well keep his hand on his sword while he spoke to the Knight Commander.

It seemed to take an incredibly long time for her to look up.  “Ah.  Ser Hawke,” she said.  “Thank you.  You may leave it on the desk.”

Her eyes looked right through him, even more so than usual.  There was something _wrong_ in them.  For one sick moment he was reminded of Ostagar, of the survivors of the first darkspawn attacks, felt a disorienting wrench of unreality sweep over him like he was back there, and then he swallowed, clenched one hand into a fist against his thigh, and stumbled forward to lay the letter on her desk.  He bowed to her jerkily and then backed hurriedly out of the room.

The door swung shut behind him so fast it clipped him in the cheek.  Carver swore, bit his lip for being an idiot and swearing in front of the Knight Commander, or near to it, and raised one hand to rub at his bruised jaw.

After that, he felt like there were eyes on him all the time, felt it between his shoulder blades and in prickles along the back of his neck, felt cold shivers when there was no one behind him, found himself jumping at unexpected noises.

When he saw the books in the library begin to lift in front of him and slam themselves against the shelves one at a time, he rounded on the young mage beside him and grabbed her arm with a snarl to stop it.

She went white to the lips and gasped, “It’s not me, ser.  It’s not any of us.  Please—please don’t punish me for it, I swear I didn’t do it.”

Her eyes were huge in her face, the pupils dilated.  She was staring at the books like they were even more terrifying than he was.

Carver swallowed, dropped her arm.  “I’m sorry,” he said, awkwardly.  “It’s all right.  It’s …”  They both winced as a final book slammed into the shelves and dropped to the floor.  “I’ll report it to the Knight-Captain,” he said finally.  “We’ll get to the bottom of it.”

She stared at him, biting her bottom lip.  She had little freckles over her cheeks, he noticed distantly.  She was probably about eighteen, but he suddenly felt ages, eons older than her, not just five or so years.  “Do you think there’s really a ghost in the Tower, ser?” she said in a small voice.

“There’s no ghost,” he said.  “Ghosts aren’t real.”  But the fear in her eyes prompted him to add, “And if there is, protecting you mages from it is what we’re here for.”  He stalked over to the books and picked them up, slamming them back into their places like it would fix anything.

Knight-Captain Cullen had dark circles under his eyes, and his skin was sallow and lined with weariness, drawn tight around his jaw and seamed along his brow.  He jumped when Carver came in, even though he’d called for him to enter, and his fingers tightened spasmodically on the back of his chair.  Carver could see him swallow as he gestured for him to take a seat.

There were no ghosts, Cullen said, but the look in his eyes told a different story.  There were a million of them in his eyes, in the haunted way he swallowed.

When Carver left his office, he wondered if it were the Gallows that was haunted, or if it was just them.  The whole lot of them.


End file.
